


The Four Times He Stepped Back and the One Time She Stepped Forward

by RedLaces



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 15:11:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1783546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLaces/pseuds/RedLaces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once is an incident, two's a coincidence, three's a pattern, but four is just ridiculous</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They went back to the depot a week later.

Despite their extensive searching, Clarke wanted to give it one last look over before they brought the rest of the hundred down to start the clean up. They weren’t alone when she suggested the idea to Bellamy. “I just feel like we got distracted once we found the guns, we might of missed something, and what would be the harm in checking again?” She asked, her fingers drumming on the side of her legs.

They were in the dropship, Bellamy and Finn halfway through a strong debate on how the space should be divided now that the top level wasn’t a prison before Clarke walked in.. He shrugged. “If you want,” His mouth stayed neutral, but Clarke could see the anticipation in his eyes. He knew they weren’t done looking. It struck a positive chord in her to see some optimism from him, and she couldn’t help but smile.

Finn cleared his throat. “Maybe you two shouldn’t go alone this time? You’ll cover more ground with an extra person or two, and we need you guys back here as soon as possible.” He raised his eyebrows, arms crossed defensively.

Clarke was already making a mental list of all the supplies they’d need to pack. Torches. Lunch. A knife or two and at least one gun. “Uh, no, I think we’re good.” She spoke absentmindedly. “Besides, we need a calm head here to keep everyone in line, and make sure no one decides they want a crack at shooting without Bellamy.” She looked up at the guard and smiled again.

Finn’s mouth turned to a neat line. “Right, I’ll go check on them now, I guess.” Pushing past Bellamy he threw the door curtain away so forcefully it nearly fell down. Neither of the occupants noticed.

“Shall we?” the princess asked.

“After you.” Her rebel replied.

-

“Clarke, you’re not going to believe this.”

They’d been searching twenty minutes, their hopes all but demolished when Bellamy kicked a body out of the way and found a sealed red box with a beautiful white cross in the middle. His heart raced as he tore open the plastic and lifted the lid.

“What?” Clarke jogged over, crouching next to him. Her pulse matched his as she recognised the cross.

“You’re kidding.”The contents practically glowed, although that may have been their reflective plastic wrappers.

“Bandages, alcohol swabs, antibiotics, decent medical needle and thread, painkillers...” With every word the grin on his face grew from one of wonder to ecstatic joy. Feeling the cramping in his legs he stood up, and she quickly followed. “Clarke, this could mean-”

“I know.” She nodded, thinking hard. “This could be the difference between life and death.” But even she couldn’t keep from grinning. “Didn’t I tell you? I knew there was something more down here!” She squealed, instinctively wrapping Bellamy in a tight hug.

He responded by lifting her off the ground and spinning her. “This is easily the best news we’ve had all trip.” He breathed into her hair as he set her down. She pulled her head away, arms still loosely around his neck, his around her waist. They slowed, their faces inches from each other. Even in the half light of the depot Bellamy knew he’d never seen anyone more beautiful than the girl smiling at him. As he moved just a millimetre forward his entire brain was screaming _Pull back! Pull back now!_

“Uh,” He looked down, shaking his head like it might dislodge the alien part that made him think that might have been a good idea. “We should head back to camp. Finn’s gonna wanna know about the kit.” He let go of her waist, feeling his arms ache as the returned to his side.

“Right,” Clarke said the word, but didn’t move, still staring at the amazing person in front of her. He’d done a complete 180 since she’d first met him. Or maybe he’d always been this. She’d just written him off too quickly. They stood awkwardly, her arms still around his neck, his arms practically behind his back. “Right!” She looked away, her hands breaking apart as she slid back so there was two feet of space between them. It wasn’t enough to get rid of this weird feeling. “Let’s go.”

They didn’t talk the entire way home, refusing to even make eye contact.


	2. Chapter 2

She’d taken his jacket.

The winter was fast approaching and on a quick hunting trip Clarke had been shivering so hard she’d dropped her blade at least four times. Silently, Bellamy removed his coat and held it out to her. She turned her head to the side, squinting.

He huffed exasperatedly . “Don’t make a bigger deal out of this than it is, Princess. You’re shivering and it’s putting me off my game. So just,” He shoved the jacket onto her arms. “Okay?”

He turned around and stomped away, gripping his knife tightly in his right hand.

As the sun had set, the temperature had dropped further. Everyone was shivering, and blankets were in high demand. At one point she could see three girls wrapped in one blanket, hobbling towards the food table. She’d expected the owner of the jacket to come collect it, but Bellamy Blake didn’t ask for things. She’d seen him leave his tent in a t-shirt. His pride was going to kill him. Apparently literally.

So she was going to return it whilst he was sleeping, that way he couldn’t say no, and she could avoid any coy comment about her being worried about him. She wasn’t. She just needed to return his jacket.

It was roughly ten pm when she decided to leave. Everyone had retired by nine. It was just too uncomfortable to try and stay up later in the cold. They’d all get up at five anyway. No point wasting precious sleeping time trying to have fun. She hadn’t taken the jacket off all day, but if anyone had noticed, or drew some weird conclusion about the two leaders, no one mentioned it. She decided to go over jacket-clothed but empty-handed, figuring she wouldn’t need another for the walk back.

When she reached his tent she stopped. What if he wasn’t alone? The thought of finding him with someone else struck a weird feeling in Clarke. A prick of jealousy followed by a flood of embarrassment.

She didn’t think about Bellamy that way, did she?

No! He was just her partner. He was annoying, headstrong, brave, confident, good hearted, but that was it.

With that in mind she threw open the curtain, but found him alone.

She’d expected the man she’d seen on other occasions. Shirtless, on his back, smiling cockily with a girl in either arm, perfectly still. What she found was a scared little boy in a t-shirt and pants, hugging his knees and shaking.

Clarke stopped dead in the doorway. He looked so much younger. There was no difference in what he was wearing, they didn’t exactly have the supplies for pyjamas, but somehow she felt like she’d been taken back to a teenage Bellamy. A scared, vulnerable, but heart of gold possessing Bellamy.

He whimpered,  rolling over. Murmuring something that sounded like resistance, he seemed to be struggling against some kind of bonds, and with every struggle a cold hand on Clarke’s heart gripped tighter and tighter. She wanted to wake him, and wrap her arms around him him until, somehow, every single problem he’d ever had just erased itself. She wanted to kiss his lips until a smile graced them so genuine that looking into his eyes was like dipping into paradise. She wanted to give him everything he’d been denied in life. This rush of emotion was so powerful she had to step back. In a second it was gone, but an echo was left on her skin like static. She still wanted all those things.

She reconsidered whether her feelings for Bellamy were totally platonic.

But this wasn’t her place. She had no idea of what he went through, she’d probably just seem like she was trying to equate her problems with his. And she knew what she’d gone through was more than three hundred people should ever have to go through, but she also knew he’d gone through worse. If she tried to help him, she’d just ruin their relationship, and it was just starting to be standable.

She should just put the jacket down and leave.

Clarke took a few steps into the room, trying to find a place to put it down that he wouldn’t trip over when he woke up. _God this place is such a mess._ She nearly tripped over something she couldn’t quite make out but felt soft. Probably the blanket he had obviously discarded.

She stopped, but eventually gave in, picking up the comforter and dragging it to his side. She threw it gently over him, dragging the corners to cover his entire body.

“Clarke?”

She froze. His voice was muddled, he was obviously still half asleep. This was confirmed when he asked. “Why are you in my cabin? My mom…” He trailed off. Could she pretend she was dream Clarke? Would that actually work? She figured it was worth a shot.

“Yeah it’s me.” She bent down so he could see her clearer. “You doing okay there?” She used a tone much softer than the one she usually adopted when addressing him, and she actually smiled. Her face ached, muscles she hadn’t used in a long time stretched and groaned. He frowned, but shrugged, stretching out in a way that alarmed Clarke. He was bound to realise where he was soon. And if she was still in his tent when he came to his senses, she’d never hear the end of it. “I’m gonna go now. Don’t mention it to your mom, okay?” She tried to keep him in the dream state. He nuzzled further into his pillow.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Clarke turned and tiptoed to the exit. She tried to make the opening in the curtain as small as possible so as not to cast light on Bellamy’s face, but it didn’t work.

“Wait, where are you going?” He mumbled. She whirled around.

He was on the verge of sitting up. “Come back.” He asked, as if it was irregular for her to leave whilst he was sleeping.

She could have just run. In less than two seconds she could be gone, the only evidence of her trip being the jacket. There would be nothing of her hesitation, nothing Bellamy could use to possible defend an argument that their leadership might be compromised on her part.

“Please.” His voice was rippled with a small sob.

She didn’t run.

 -

Bellamy usually woke up late. He felt it helped him make his point as a leader. But as he grew closer with Clarke she started waking him up earlier. Some mornings she was nice, kicking his foot and informing him they had leftover meat, from the night before, for breakfast. Other days she would throw a shoe at his head, telling him if he didn’t show up at the fire in ten minutes there’d only be hallucinogenic nuts to scarf before they were supposed to be heading out for supplies. But this morning he woke on his own. No noise aside from the everyday ruckus of the early birds, pulling together breakfast and sorting out what part of the camp extensions was to be completed today. At first it was odd, but then other things became apparent that were more worrying. He was warm. Not “I’m not in danger of hypothermia” warm, but honest to god warm. And comfortable too. Not just that he’d managed to find a decent position that didn’t remove all feeling from the side of his body, but his pulse was settled, his head relatively calm, despite all the confusion, and he didn’t want to get up. Not at all.

It was a little different once he regained all consciousness, and breathed in a faceful of hair. His hands were clasped around someone else’s, his chin tucked in their neck. And they were both fully clothed. Everything screamed at him to spring back, or at least murmur something sarcastic in her ear, but for reasons he couldn’t explain it took him a second. Just a beat. Part of him wanted to preserve the peace for one tiny moment.

Then it clicked, and he propelled backwards. Scrambling to his feet he looked around for his shirt, and remembered he was wearing it. He felt naked still, and spied his jacket in the corner of the tent. She must have been bringing it back. It still didn’t explain the spooning, but it was a start.

“Hmph…” Clarke mumbled. Bellamy whipped his head around. Clarke froze but one look at his expression of pure bewilderment and she broke into a fit of giggles.

“What the hell, Clarke?” He shouted.

Her giggles broke into a full laugh, and she threw her head back to stare at the ceiling, letting her hair fall down her back. _Stupid Clarke with her stupid hair, why doesn’t she tie it up? It’s so impractical_. He waited grumpily for her to finish with her laughter, and as he waited a pool of sour feelings built in his stomach.

Her laughter died enough for him to talk, and his mouth shaped into a sneer. “So, you gonna explain yourself, Princess? Why you snuck into my bed last night to, what, cuddle? Seems kinda crazy, huh?” He gave her his most spiteful glare, and her smile was quickly turning to embarrassment, which he was sure would turn to anger as he kept talking. “Kinda desperate.” He let out a small laugh. Obviously fake, but it served its purpose. “I thought you’d gotten over Spacewalker, but it like you just turned that crazy onto me. Well, I’m sorry,  but I’m not gonna be your snuggle buddy, and if you keep sneaking in like this, I might set up a twenty four hour guard on you.”

The expression on her face was one he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen on anyone. He’d seen pure fear, on the face of thirteen year old Octavia, he’d seen an unbearable sadness, on the face of his mother and his own reflection in the glass doors of the air lock, but this? This was hurt, complete, unadulterated hurt. And unlike the other occasions he’d seen such pure emotions she made no attempt to hide it.

“I didn’t sneak in to sleep in your bed, Bellamy. I came to return your jacket. You never asked for it back, and I figured you’d make some snide comment if I returned it to you whilst you were conscious, but it appears that was inevitable.”

“Then why did I wake up with my arms around you?” He raised his eyebrows. “Why did you decide you might slid on in beside me, wrap my arms around you in what can only be described as-”

“Because you asked me too!” Clarke shouted, standing quickly. “I came in, put the jacket down, you were half asleep and you asked me to lie down beside you. I was just going to stay until you fell back to sleep, but I guess I fell asleep.”

Bellamy took a breath to start his comeback, but stopped as the images flooded back to him. Clarke’s voice, a warm blanket, spooning. _Thought I dreamt that._ He kept the thought to himself, but didn’t account for the look of recognition that would cross his face.

Clarke grimaced. “It’s all coming back now, huh?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Looks like I’m not the only crazy, desperate one.”

She turned and stormed out.

“Clarke, wait. Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

She stopped and turned, a small, sad laugh leaving her mouth. “You know what?” There was no avoiding her piercing gaze. “Don’t even. You’re not sorry. For a second there, it looked like someone might actually care about you, so you pushed and kicked at them until they decide you’re not worth it. Well, it worked.”

Bellamy was left standing in his tent alone.


	3. Chapter 3

It was weird, being a sibling. Octavia didn’t know the ins and outs of being so genetically close to someone, but she liked to think they were special. Like she and Bellamy were linked, telepathically or something. She wasn’t stupid. She knew she didn’t live in some ancient Earth book. But she still thought that if something really bad happened to her brother, she’d feel it.

So when she felt a tug in her gut as she grabbed some fruit for dinner, and there came a yell from the front gate, she knew exactly who would walk through.

But she had hoped he would walk through.

She pushed violently through the crowd of people to the front, cursing her height. It took four shoves to reach the fence, but what she saw was worse than she imagined. Two older boys held her brother by his ankles and underarms, hobbling like they might drop him at any second. “Oh god,” She muttered, “Oh god, Oh god, oh god,”Her mind was blank, like it was buffering or she was on those nuts people pretended they got rid of. Her vision tunnelled, and she could only see the image of her brother in front of her. He was unconscious, his shirt soaked with the blood that too covered his hands and his face. It took a good thirty seconds of staring before Octavia could find her words. “Cl-Clarke,” She whispered, then yelled. “Everyone out of my way- CLARKE!”

In seconds the space was clear and she beckoned the guys to follow her. “CLARKE!” She called again, the end of her friend’s name choked with a sob. She needed her brother. No one. No one here realised just how worse off they were without siblings. She needed Bellamy. And she never told him.

A head of blonde hair appeared in the crowd, and eventually the sea cleared and Clarke Griffin jogged forward. Her eyes widened, and she froze for a second. Octavia couldn’t see inside the girl’s head, but she assumed it was as blank and stuttering as hers had been. She knew how much Clarke cared for her brother, even if if the princess didn’t admit it, and this would be messing with her head just as much as it was screwing with Octavia’s.

“Clarke?” She asked tentatively. “ We’ve gotta do something.”

“Yeah,” Her friend shook her head slightly, and she was back. “Follow me.”

The crowds had already parted, but still hung around. Octavia was behind Clarke, but she assumed the princess wore a suitably frantic expression, as it wasn’t long before everyone ran back to their stations, whispering eagerly and taking not-so-subtle turns to stare as the hurricane their leader had become whirled towards the dropship.

 

She tore down the curtain without even trying. “Get him on the table.” Clarke ordered, pulling out their precious med kit without so much as a second of hesitation. She thought she knew how much Clarke cared, but this act of pure desperation went beyond even Octavia’s expectations.

Octavia crossed to her friend in two quick strides, putting her hand over the one unbuckling the case.“ Are you sure you should-”

“Yes.” Clarke stated flatly, shaking off the foreign appendage. She pressed her hands to the table Bellamy now lay on, taking a labored breath and sniffling. “Now, tell me what happened.” She gave the boys a hard look.

“Ronan here got a little trigger-happy.” The ginger jerked his head towards his friend, who wouldn’t make eye contact with either of the girls. “And Bellamy was in his line of fire.”

“He was shot?” Octavia panicked. They’d never removed a bullet. How were they supposed to do that? They had no anaesthesia, no real qualified medical professional. “How-How-” She stuttered.

Clarke was much less panicked. Or at least if she was, she was much better at hiding it. “We might not have to.” As she walked around the table to the side with the bullet in it, knife in hand, Ronan and his pushy friend decided to make a timely exit. Octavia lifted her middle finger angrily as the left. “Cowards.” She spat.

“Take these.” Clarke nudged at her back, handing her the remains of her brother’s jacket and t-shirt. Octavia took them and, without an idea of what to do with them, threw them aside. Clarke looked at her worriedly. Octavia looked like she might break at any moment.

“You can’t be here.” Clarke decided. “You’ll only hinder the process. Go find Jasper. I can do this on my own.”

“You can remove a bullet on your own?” Raven would have internally fistpumped at her brilliant entrance had a person not been bleeding out ten feet away from her. “Hell no, I’ll help.”

Clarke gave her a look. There was no need to ask how the girl had found out. It wouldn’t take more than one conversation with anyone to work out what was happening. “The moonshine is upstairs in the chest near the wall. Hurry.” Clarke ordered.

She didn’t need to be told twice. Once upstairs Raven found the chest quickly and wrenched it open, grabbing two bottles of moonshine in a smooth movement. Whilst up there she couldn’t help but notice the two blue cables tossed on the floor. She swallowed, pushing down that unnecessary emotion. Another time. She resolved, climbing back down the ladder.

She wasn’t quiet, but there was a moment when Clarke must have thought she was still alone. Halfway down the steps the mechanic could see her friend weeping. Harsh, uncensored sobs that must have torn at her throat. She turned slightly and Raven saw she was holding Bellamy’s hand.

“Please. Please. Please. You can’t leave me, no way. We’ll crash and burn. I’ve told you before and I’ll say it again, a hundred times if I need to. I need you. I need you. I need you.” Her words caved to sobs once more. Never had Raven seen the leader look so broken. She knew the two authority figures had grown closer in the past few weeks, especially with the Ark delaying its trip back to Earth, but she had no idea how close. Were they-? Had they-?

She padded back up two steps before stomping loudly on the metal bars. “I have the moonshine!” She practically yelled. Clarke sniffled, turning slowly. Her face would have completely masked her feelings had she not had blotchy skin, bloodshot eyes and a rosy nose. And had she not still been holding his hand.

Despite their constant efforts, there was still a lingering tension between Clarke and Raven. Raven knew that Clarke had backed off. She’d told both Finn and herself that it was just the night, and that she wasn’t going to interfere in how they moved forward in their relationship. And as much as Raven wanted to believe her, something had always held her back. Seeing Clarke positively distraught over Bellamy put an end to that doubt. Clarke had moved on, and now so could she.

She jumped the last step, crossing the room as she unscrewed one of the lids, the other bottle tucked under the crook of her arm. “So, how much do we know?” She knew the drill, tossing moonshine over her shaking hands and passing the bottle to Clarke.

“Nothing yet, I’m not touching it until-” She took the bottle. “Thanks, until my hands are clean. There’s too much blood to tell whether the bullet left his body, but, with any luck.” Her breaths were labored, clearly not too sure luck was on their side today. She gave the moonshine back to Raven.

“With any luck we’ll find an exit wound. Cloth, cloth” She clicked her fingers until she spotted some. Running across the room she picked up some kind of blue fabric she could declare was clean enough, and tore it into strips as she walked back. Wordlessly the moonshine fell back into her hands. She looked up at Raven, who gave her a small smile. A smile she couldn’t quite return. She hoped Raven understood this wasn’t about her.

With three quick swipes the area was cleared. “Here goes.” She mumbled, feeling around his side. There’s entry and-” She waited on baited breath.

There it was, a hole the entire way through, skin to skin.

She sighed with relief so hard her head slumped to his chest.

Raven stood there, kind of confused. “So, have we got an exit wound or not?”

“We’re good.” Clarke laughed, so as not to cry.

-

Bellamy barely registered doing it. The grounders had ambushed them as they were scoping out a new area for hunting. He’d just brought two guys with him, nothing too threatening, but they must have thought differently. Bellamy had been taking up the rear in their short, single file line, in charge of protection. The guys he brought with him had accuracy, but were still a bit weird about using guns. He couldn’t wait until the bow and arrows were finished. We need the metal for more important things, she said. They’ll have to make do with guns, she said. “She” being Octavia, paraphrasing for Clarke, who still wasn’t talking to him. He wanted to say it was childish, that they had bigger problems than that one time he called her desperate and crazy, but he was wrong. He’d screwed up, so badly his apology was part of the screw up. He just had to wait it out.

Maybe what happened on the trip was his fault. Maybe when he saw the grounders he could have kept his head, moved to the front and told them it was time to go home. But Bellamy was distracted, and when he finally saw the first of three grounders he couldn't help but yell, “Grounder!” The next minute was a blur, but he remembered Ronan pointing a gun at one of them, and thinking If we shoot them, Clarke will never speak to me again.

Then he was on the ground in front of a hugely confused man in a skirt, feeling warm liquid envelope his side. “Don’t mind us,” He choked, rolling onto his back, the edges of his vision fading. He felt that rushing feeling he got when he fell asleep too quickly. He knew what was coming, but he had to finish his quip, since his wit was such a rarity these days. “We’ll be out of your hair in just a sec.” His vision rippled before he passed out.

-

A strong copper stench filled his nostrils. He sucked in a deep breath and coughed, hissing as he felt his skin tug aggressively. He looked down to see rough black thread running through his side. Stitches. He registered. Clarke.

The rest of the room came into focus quickly and it was clear he had been taken to the dropship. He tried to sit up, but gave up quickly and thumped back on the soft pillow that sat under his head. His chances of avoiding an interrogation from his partner didn’t look too great from where he was lying helplessly on her operating table.

“You tear my stitches I’m not doing them again.” Clarke pulled herself away from the shadow of the wall. Arms crossed tightly over her chest she held her nose high in the air and went to his side, ripping the bandage brutally form his raw skin, wiping away the dribble of blood his movement had caused and checking for breakages. Her gaze drilled his wound, but her fingers were light and cold. Bellamy willed the goosebumps away from his ribs and focused on a crack in the roof. He’d have to keep an eye on that.

He knew she was still mad at him for the jacket incident. He prefered to call it that. The first few suggestions, the spooning incident, the dissection of Bellamy’s trust issues incident, made him feel more than a little uncomfortable. He wanted to be mad too, to somehow make it equal between them, even if that meant reverting to the first stage of their relationship, the constant bickering and butting heads. It was better than her avoiding him like the plague. Anything was better than this.

“Look, I know you’re still angry at me for-”

“I’m not.” She brushed it off, standing up and turning away from him to the table with the med kit on it. The med kit they’d found together. “So just cut that train of thought right now.”

Silence fell. Bellamy knew it was his turn to talk, but he couldn’t find a single thing to say. He forced himself, slowly this time, up onto his elbow, twisting his body ever so slightly to face her.

“So, if you’re not mad-”

“Oh, I am mad.” She tore a piece of gauze from the main fabric.

Bellamy sighed exasperatedly, “What?”

She turned on her heel, looking him directly in the eye. The intimacy surprised him, and he recoiled ever so slightly from her.

“I’m not angry for the dick move you pulled half a month ago. I’m pissed about the one that happened less than six hours ago!” She turned around, storming the two steps back to the kit.

His eyebrows furrowed, the rebel’s jaw permanently unhinged. “So, you’re mad at me for getting shot?”

“Yeah!” She fished the tape from the depths of the box.

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound? I jumped in front of a bullet to stop the breakout of war.”

“And if that bullet had been half a second earlier, you would be dead.” She turned and bent down, pressing the bandage to his skin, earning a hiss from Bellamy.

“So?” He managed through a groan.

“So? So?” She held the gauze in place so she could extend enough to make eye contact. “Bellamy, you can’t go risking your life every other second.”

“Out here that’s all we can do!” Bellamy hated it. It was so hard to be so focussed on just surviving, day in day out. And the two of them had to ensure the safety of 85 other people.

“But you don’t have to double the odds! You’re ridiculous.” She went to fling her hands in exasperation, but remembered one was still pressed to his side. She bent back down and kept working.

“I’m ridiculous? You’re yelling at me for saving a grounder’s life.” Bellamy still sat up slightly. He wondered if it was helping or hindering, both his point and his treatment.

“No, I’m yelling at you for nearly losing yours.” She used her teeth to tear a ribbon of medical tape, and slapped it to his skin, harder than probably necessary. “You have no idea how quickly this camp would fall apart if we lost you.”

Bellamy went to respond, but stopped himself. Was that a compliment hidden in an insult?

She went on without him. “You just walk around, doing whatever you think is right. You’re throwing your life out the window at the drop of a hat.”

That was unfair. “It wasn’t the ‘drop of a hat’, it was potential war.”

Now that she didn’t have to hold the cloth up she could work so much faster. Her hands were a flurry of pulling and tearing. “It’s always going to be something. You’re not invincible.”

“Well, I survived this!”

She looked at him incredulously. He tried to amend it. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

She shook her head and spoke. “You’re such an idiot.”

“There you go!” He smiled. “No harm done, everyone came out oka- OW!” He howled, pain shooting from his side.

She held a determined expression, her first and second finger pushing into his wounded. “Does that feel okay to you?”

“Point taken.”

She walked away, but stormed back in seconds.

“Nope, I’m gonna say this. You have no concept of mortality. You don’t take care of yourself and it’s going to get you killed.” She was getting more worked up now “You’re such a freakin’ idiot. You have no idea how necessary you are to this camp. How needed you are by every single person. You can’t see it because you’re too busy getting shot. But how can you miss it? How can you not see that-” She realised she had been taking steps closer to him, and they were now inches apart. She hoped she knew what was coming, and leaned in ever so slightly.

Bellamy wanted to, so badly. But he couldn’t. There were too many other things to be constantly worried about, a romantic relationship would only add to that worry.

He forced himself to pull away. He looked for something, anything to say that would distract from the awkwardness. She already looked ready to leave.

“Sorry.” He blurted.

She cocked her head to the side. “What?”

“Sorry for saying those things the other night.” The other night being two weeks ago, but it still felt like the other night. “You’re right. I do push people away, but I do it because I care about them. And they need to not care about me.” He hoped he’d phrased that in a way that made sense.

Clarke took a tiny step back, and her face showed him she understood, but didn’t agree. She started to walk away, and it looked like he was going to be left without any sort of reaction. But two steps from the door she stopped, and half-turned around.

Staring at the floor she said, loud enough for him to hear. “Your method’s faulty.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These were written in between episodes, so they don't quite like up with canon, but rather weave through it, taking what they please and them scampering off into the woods...

The second dropship was coming down tomorrow. Two weeks after the first one crashed, the Council had taken what sweet time they had to make sure that it was safe. Chancellor Jaha had confirmed just hours ago that the ship was gone, and that, in the early hours of tomorrow morning, they would be able to see it in the sky.

Jasper and Monty had brewed a final batch of moonshine in celebration. Bittersweet, of course, no one could quite ignore the fourteen graves less than a hundred feet from them. But if they couldn’t celebrate the beginning of life on Earth. Real, evolving life on Earth, than what could they?

People had dragged everything that resembled a seat around their campfire, and after a small speech made by Bellamy and Clarke, the excitement of being the kids again became too much. The moonshine was broken out, and the party began.

Sophisticated, excited fun gradually turned to clumsy, sleepy accidents. Before long the moonshine jug was knocked over, and before a fight could break out Bellamy, Raven and Clarke were ushering people into their tents, talking about the big day they had tomorrow.

“Yes, I do remember that.” Raven raised her eyebrows as the guy she was holding up whispered something else into her ear. He broke into a fit of giggles and she winced. “Nope, not even when you’re sober.” She took him two steps into his tent and let him fall onto his bed. She may have pushed him, Clarke couldn’t be sure from the angle she was looking on from. She’d just aided Jasper and Monty to their tent, where they were still jabbering on about a comic book hero she’s pretty sure they created themselves. She sounded interesting, and Clarke made a note to ask about her when she got the chance.

The princess had returned to one of the more comfortable seats around the fire, nestling into it. She drank only a single cup of moonshine, knowing that everyone else would drink more than their fair share, and would inevitably need a sober figure to keep them from killing each other by accident. She knew Bellamy wouldn’t touch the stuff, always on the job, but she’d expected Raven to join in. Clarke knew that she and Finn had broken up, and she expected some kind of drunken hook up or revenge plot. But Raven seemed to be handling it surprisingly well. The leader hoped that the two girls growing closer was aiding the process, but she knew that ultimately Raven was just an extraordinary person, and Clarke would just have to get used to her exceeding every expectation put on her.

Clarke kicked her feet up and stretched slightly. She didn’t want to go to sleep any time soon. Going to sleep meant waking up tomorrow, and tomorrow meant facing her duties as the camp’s sort of leader, and having to compromise hers and Bellamy’s leadership with Jaha’s, as well as exercise her skills as a peacemaker between the two men. She groaned internally at the thought of the exhaustion. So, naturally, she turned her back on rest and recharge, and chose instead denial.

From where she was sitting she could see Bellamy helping a fourteen year old into his tent. Way too young for moonshine, he’d taken advantage of his intoxicated elders and sneaked enough to make him throw up. Clarke tried to remember his name: Max, she thought. He wore an expression that she was sure from the right distance, in the right light, would look positively green. She laughed slightly, but felt a twinge of guilt quickly follow. She too had done stupid things when alcohol was involved. She cringed at the memory of the awful things she’d said to Wells. And then just at the memory of Wells at all. She missed him, so incredibly much, but ultimately she couldn’t feel sorry for his death. He’d died loved, by his father, by his best friend, and he knew it. And now he didn’t have to be part of the impending war. She hoped he was happy, wherever he was. She was a strong believer in some kind of afterlife, but she was content not to pin it down with specifics, to leave it unknown.

Wells’ face faded in her mind as she watched Bellamy crouched down so he was looking up at the boy, who was still waiting for the inevitable growth spurt that would make him tall enough to be considered an actual teenager. Max looked ashamed, but Bellamy seemed to be assuring him it was okay, in that big brother way that made Clarke feel all warm inside, like she did when she took her only swig of whiskey, except without the acidic burn in her throat. The rebel patted him on the arm and said something that made Max smile, before stepping into his tent. Bellamy paused briefly, smiling at the ground like he was remembering something, before he stood up. Clarke couldn’t help but copy his expression, as she always did when he smiled. The muscle movement had returned to the familiarity it had been before her father’s death, now that she spent more and more time with Bellamy.

He began to walk over to her, and for once, she didn’t hide her happiness. Somewhere in the last two weeks she’d stopped being angry at him and more importantly she stopped being so embarrassed that he made her feel happy. It stopped being such a phenomenon. And he wasn’t afraid to smile back at her.

“I didn’t see you drink anything, princess.” He reached the fire and stopped. “You gotta loosen up a little.” A taunting look flickered across his face.

She cocked her head. “I didn’t see you with a glass either, Blake. Besides, it’s a little late now.” She gestured to the knocked over barrel.

“Is it, though?” He grinned, and in one smooth motion he swooped down and picked up a crumpled blanket.

Clarke furrowed her eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to be?”

He walked around the fire and sat next to her, directly on the ground so she was a few inches higher than him. He leaned back, kicking his legs out. “This,” He flicked the blanket open, revealing a flask. “Is planning ahead.”

“No way,” Clarke shook her head in disbelief. “You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for, you know that?”

He gulped, an expression crossing his face Clarke might of mistaken for nervousness, had she not known him better.

“Well, I’m already devilishly handsome, and a total badass. I can’t be a genius as well, we’d never get anything done.” He smiled charmingly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He shoved the bottle towards her. “Now, drink.”

“You know, on the Ark we would call this peer pressure.” She said, but took the bottle anyway, throwing her head back and tipping it up. Swallowing quickly, she winced. “God, if it wasn’t easy to make and quick to intoxicate, we as 22nd century humans, would have no fucking clue what moonshine is. Tastes like shit, can blind you, and has no fucking value.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow, that was quick. You swear like a motherfucker when you drink.”

“No, I swear like a motherfucker when I’m alone.” She tried to return the flask, but he held up a hand and shook his head.

“You’re alone?” He asked, the edges of his mouth quirking up.

She cocked her head to the side, playfully annoyed at his unwillingness to read between the lines. “You know what I mean.”

“Oh, I think I do.” He smirked. God, she loved his smile, even when it was mocking her. It was like he became a whole different person when he wasn’t being serious. She liked that person. A lot.

She tried to offer the flask again, but he ignored it completely. She huffed. “Dude, I’m not drinking this all on my own.”

“Yeah, yeah you are. I’m your sober buddy.” He shifted slightly, shuffling down so he was on his back, looking up at the sky. “Gotta make sure nothing happens to you whilst you’re tipsy.”

She didn’t like that word, tipsy. It sounded stupid and fragile, like she might just fold over, or tear if the wind changed. But as her vision of the fire flickering a few feet away from them split and blurred, she begrudgingly accepted the accuracy of it. She was tipsy.

Still, she didn’t need someone riding in to be her knight in shining armour. She was ten feet from her room for God’s sake. “There are plenty of people guarding the wall, and my tent is like-” She pointed clumsily. “Right there.”

Bellamy shook his head. “I’m not worried about what the outside will do to you, I’m worried about what you’ll do to yourself, like trip and twist your ankle, or fall into the fire, or just never get up. You could fall asleep right now and wake up with hypothermia.” He made it sound so grave Clarke couldn’t help but giggle. In a twelve-year-old girl kinda way. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Oh thank you, kind sir,” She raised her nose in the air. “And here I thought tonight would be my last, and I would fall a slave to the horrors of trippin’ over and gettin’ cold.” She twirled her wrist to her forehead and tossed it back dramatically.

“Why is your damsel voice like something out of an old Wild West movie?” Bellamy snorted, and Clarke imagined if he’d actually drank something it would have squirted out of his nose. She pushed that picture away quickly, but not before a fondness grew in her chest, similar to the warmth of the moonshine. Weird, but also, kinda not.

“You watched Wild West movies?” She squinted.

“Yeah, what, you think only rich people had access to the media database?” He gave her the face. The face that said ‘you’re better than me, and that makes me better than you’.

She hated that face. She’d seen it on every delinquent at least once.

“You know, we’re all rich.” She took another gulp from the flask, tapping her fingers on the side of her log-seat.

“Oh yeah?” Bellamy sat up slightly. “How do you figure?”

“Well,” She paused. She’d only shared this theory with Wells and her dad. They were part of the upper class on the Ark, and she didn’t spread it because she feared it made her sound like she was trying to validate her privilege and exclude their poverty. She wasn’t. Quite the opposite actually. “The Ark has a population of roughly two thousand people, right?” Bellamy nodded. “And if everyone has exactly one child. Well,” She corrected herself. “Almost everyone.”

The brother gave her a wry smile, and she took it as encouragement to continue. “Then we could say that the originally population was about eight thousand, if we say that there’s been three generations since then.”

Bellamy tapped his foot. “I don’t get what this has to do with how much money you have.”

She slapped his chest instinctively, ignoring the weak rise of awkwardness at the move. Were they at that point in their friendship? He didn’t seem to notice, still smiling like an idiot. Like a dumb, gorgeous idiot.

“I’m getting to that, be patient, you dipshit.” She grinned. “So there was eight thousand of us, but before that, there were seven and a half billion of us.” She made the word billion sound like a mini explosion.

“That puts us in the top 0.00000-" She had to count the zeroes out on her hand "10666% of Earth’s richest families-”

“How could you possible have worked that out in your head.”

Clarke gave him a glare. “You think I’m coming up with this on the spot?”

Bellamy gave it some thought, then nodded. “Carry on.”

“So we’re the richest people in the world. We are as good as it gets, with more money than billions of people combined. And we’re still those rich people. We’ve just exchanged our money for something so much more valuable.” She waited, for effect.

There was a beat, then Bellamy looked at her. “Come on, bring it home.” he urged.

“Our lives.” She finished. “The ability to continue our lineage beyond the destruction of all life on Earth. Or, at least we thought.” She made eye contact. “Really makes you think, doesn’t it?”

She waited for some kind of response, something to spur on the ethical debate.

She was let down.

“A little too hard for this time of night, don’t you reckon?” He sighed. “Jesus, Princess, if I’d known you were an existential drunk I woulda burnt the moonshine myself.” Grunting, he lifted himself into a crosslegged sitting position, snatching the moonshine for a quick, meaningless swig.

Crestfallen, Clarke crossed her arms over her chest. She’d thought they were growing closer, but she must have misread the signals somewhere along the way. The moment was gone, and she could feel her blood, rich in alcohol, returning to her head.

Bellamy noticed her disappointment, and was surprised at the discomfort it caused him. “Look, I’ll be more than happy to discuss the history of the universe with you. Tomorrow, though, okay?” He stood up, groaning at the aches in his bones. Jesus, he wasn’t even twenty-three. “For now, just enjoy the peace and quiet.”

Clarke thought about that for a minute. “Okay,” She said, standing up. She walked a little ways away from the fire and their seats before holding out her hand.

Bellamy tilted his head to the side, a cautious expression clouding his face, but took her hand slowly. “What are we doing?”

“Enjoying the peace.” She pulled him gently to her until there was no real space between them, guiding his hand to her waist and clasping the other up high.

“I don’t dance.” He protested weakly, leaving his hands where they were, and leaning in as she flattened her palm to his shoulderblade. “There’s no music.”

“We’re not dancing,” She began to sway, her body gesturing his to follow. “And I’ll sing.”

“You’ll sing?” He questioned. She could hear the tease die in his throat as she rested her head on his shoulder, taking a breath in to begin.

_Hold me close and hold me fast_

Slowly, they moved in a slow circle.

_This magic spell you cast_

The fire was dimming, the night seeming to pass a little quicker.

_This is la vie en rose_

but at the same time, it was the longest few minutes of both their lives.

_When you kiss me, heaven sighs_

Bellamy wanted to melt into her embrace, a frightening urge. He was used to being the rock of any relationship, romantic or otherwise.

_And though I close my eyes_

Clarke couldn’t pick the moment when she went from simply resting her head against his shoulder, and when it slotted perfectly into the curve of his neck. He smelt good. Like freshly cut wood, morning dew and safety.

_I see la vie en rose_

Later, they’d both say it was the other who pulled back.

_When you press me to your heart_

Their eyes were locked, hearts beating fast, neither being able to tell who’s hand was actually shaking, and who’s was simply following.

_I'm in a world apart_

Yet, neither felt surprised.

Somehow, they knew, from the moment that ship crashed, they were leading two different paths, winding and turning to end at this dance.

_A world where roses bloom_

The words were too corny to even put into coherent thoughts. But they were there.

_And when you speak, angels, sing from above_

He wanted to say something, anything.

_Everyday words seem_

Nothing seemed to fit.

_To turn into love songs_

She leaned in, closing her eyes.

_Give your heart and soul to me_

She was beautiful. And he knew her. For every flaw, for every strength, she was the most amazing thing he knew could exist.

_And life will always be_

She didn’t deserve a mess like him.

_La vie en rose_

He wrenched his head sideways, and felt her breath hit his cheek, sending shivers down his spine.

He took a step back, removing his hands and putting them firmly at his hips. He looked into the fire, focusing on the heat as it burnt the surface of his eyes. “Sorry, out of line.”He spoke gruffly. He wanted so bad to look up, to be able to read her emotions off her features, but he didn’t trust himself.

“Sorry,” she tried to keep her words as sharp as possible. “I completely misread that, stupid of me-”

“No!” He blurted, looking up against his will.

She went back to looking surprised, but less so than before. She was tired of their little dance, not that one, that was amazing, but the overall, metaphorical dance, and the booze only heightened her emotions.

“Look, I want this to happen, alright? Just, not when you’re drunk.” His gaze had returned to its default spot on the ground.

She rolled her eyes. “‘Night, Bellamy.” She sighed, irritated, trudging off. This was their pattern.

If she hadn’t been so drunk, she would never have had the guts or obnoxiousness for her final statement.

“You’re gonna run out of excuses soon, Blake. There’s only so far you can run.”

 


	5. Raven: Relationship Guru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven knows what's up and tells Bellamy to cut the bullshit.

“She’s not going to wait forever, you know?”

Bellamy and Raven were sorting bullets and loading clips in preparation for the impending arrival of the dropship. Clarke was convinced they weren’t going to need them, and Bellamy tried to think as optimistically, which shouldn’t have been that hard. But if he let his mind wander he could still see Jaha with a gaping hole in his stomach, taunting him. Bellamy needed his mind at ease if Clarke wanted a seamless introduction of the Ark members to the earth.

But somewhere between his fourth and fifth clip the guard’s eyes had strayed to the tent opening, through which he had an annoyingly perfect view of a certain co-leader. dividing food supply and, on occasion, sharing an excited expression with a passing friend. More annoyingly, Raven was directly behind him and could see exactly what was attracting his attention

He shook his head and returned to his clip. “Clarke Griffin doesn’t wait for anyone.”

“She’s waiting for you. Either that or she’s blind.” Raven jerked her head towards Clarke, who was mid-conversation with Rory, a not-unattractive guy with the added advantage of being slightly sweaty and a little dirty. She smiled and laughed slightly.

Bellamy looked away.

“He might not be quite as pretty as yourself, but with a lot less emotional baggage, frostiness and trust issues, you’ve got competition.” She smiled smuggled and picked up her seventh clip.

“Oh yeah? I would have thought Finn would have been my main competition.” Bellamy fired, and immediately regretted. His instinct was to be mean to people, protective. People would leave him alone on the Ark if he presented himself as a bitter person. ON the Earth he had nothing to hide, but those instincts weren’t just going to turn themselves off.

Raven flinched. BUt she was quickly smiling again. “I think Finn’s out of the picture. He told her he loved her and she turned him down. She’s got more self-respect than I gave her credit for when I first met her.”

“And now?”

“Now, I think she’s probably the most respectable person here.”

Bellamy’s face flickered expressions too numerous to list as the encyclopaedia of information just thrown at him began to sink in. He wanted to ask when, where, and how Raven knew. But he also didn’t want to show that he cared. The mechanic already had enough evidence to support his… feelings for Clarke. He didn’t need to add to the collection. In fact, it was probably best to steer the conversation away from him completely.

“What about you?”

Raven looked at him, smiling. It was a smile he noticed hadn’t truly left her face all day. “What about me?”

“Is Finn out of the picture for you?”

“Bellamy, we had our fun, and it didn’t work for either of us.” She laughed, stackign her clips.

Bellamy sat down all of his work. “I know,” he said. “I’m asking you as a friend. I’m genuinely interested.”

She looked at him incredulously. “Genuinely interested? _Friend_? She’s really done a number on you, hasn’t she?” Raven rearranged her pile. “Well, new Bellamy, I don’t know what to tell you. It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.” His prodding earned another confused look, but she conceded.

“Alright, it’s like, have you ever sprained something? Your wrist, or your ankle?”

He nodded. He’d jumped from a seat to the floor whilst playing with Octavia when he was thirteen . His mother had been furious. Technically, medical assistance was free on the Ark, but between the lines a gift, of sorts, was required. Some trade, not money, no credit transaction, but whether it was food, special clothing, or for those more powerful looking for something a little illegal, special access to the Paper Library. It had cost his mother a weeks ration for that sprain.

“Well, you know how, in the weeks after the pain, you’re afraid to move it, worried it hasn’t fully healed and you’re going to make it worse. But you move it anyway , because you want to know. You want to know if you’re okay.”

Bellamy nodded. None if it really applied to his ankle experience, but he nodded anyway.

“So, are you okay?” He asked.

Raven stopped still, thinking about it. “I think so.” She turned and faced Bellamy. “You need to talk to her,

Bellamy exhaled exasperatedly, rubbing his eyes. How had they ended up talking about him again?

“Even if it’s to turn her down-” Bellamy swallowed at the thought, and Raven didn’t miss it. “-You need to make it clear.”

“Why” Bellamy blurted. “Why can’t I just stop talking to her, avoid her. It’s worked with others.”

Raven glared at him. “This is different and you know it. And on a practical note, you co-captain this team.” She gestured aroun the tent, and Bellamy heard all the commotion from outside he’d previously tuned out.

“You have to talk to each other, like on an hourly basis. And two,” She held up two grease-stained fingers. “I don’t think you could if you tried.”

Bellamy sighed. “When did you get so… relationship guru-y?”

Raven shrugged. “I dunno, when I stopped worrying about my own relationships, took a look at everyone else’s and realised how dumb you all are.”

Bellamy smiled. “Thanks for that.” He meant the snide comment, but he realised it might sound like he meant her advice. Maybe he was thanking her for that. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know, but maybe he just need someone to say it to his face.

“Anytime.”

 

 


End file.
